


Sense of Security

by Jalules



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha OT4 - Freeform, Awkwardness, Communication, Control Issues, Developing Relationship, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Overheard Sex, Polyamory, Roxy-centric, Roxy/Jane centric, Sexual Content, Voyeurism, sexual conversation and discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:51:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jalules/pseuds/Jalules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Roxy opens the front door and is met by the scents of vanilla and cinnamon and sweet, thick chocolate, she knows that she’s home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sense of Security

**Author's Note:**

> The third tumblr giveaway fic this time around.

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When Roxy opens the front door and is met by the scents of vanilla and cinnamon and sweet, thick chocolate, she knows that she’s home.

Even growing up largely alone, in an environment stripped clean, clinical, dowsed in alcohol, somehow she always knew that this was what a home should smell like. Freshly baked cookies just signal something in the brain, bring all those warm fuzzies to the surface, make the heart melt.

She breathes deep, lets the scent ease the tension out of her shoulders faster than any massage ever could.

Not that she’d say no to a massage anyway. A girl’s entitled to a little pampering now and then, and with a house full of eligible hands, it shouldn’t be hard to find someone willing to indulge her whims.

She toes off her shoes at the door, nudges them up into their designated cubby hole, and only smirks a little when she counts up the shoes already there; two pairs of her own, just one of Jane’s, a spare pair of boots from Jake, and a staggering five pairs of Dirk’s. There’s his standard sneaks, some high tops with flames up the sides, a pair of seriously vintage Converse signed by some asshole actor you’ve never heard of, those funny steampunk spat things Jake talked him into making, and a pair of sandals that Roxy has always found fucking hilarious.

She makes a mental note to tease him about his mounting collection later, and also to remind him to put them back in his closet before Jane gets huffy about it.

There’s faint music playing not too far off, coming from the kitchen, the same direction as that delicious bakery smell. She follows the sound of what, at first, sounds like some crazy old big band nonsense, but morphs into electroswing as she gets closer. At least that’s _slightly_ more recent, though from her perspective, everything Jane listens to is sort of out of date.

When she walks into the kitchen she drops her purse next to Jane’s laptop. She checks the screen and sees that there’s a massive playlist on, about halfway through. She already missed all the songs she put in there for Janey, so there’s no way of knowing whether she actually listened to them or not. That’s kind of disappointing.

Jane herself, though, is just as warm and welcoming as the smell of cookies permeating the room. She turns to smile in greeting, calling out a cheerful little hello before turning back to switch off the oven. She’s still got one oven mitt on, a dusting of nutmeg up her arm and down her shirt, but almost immediately she brushes it all off, cleans herself up.

Roxy fixes her bangs, self-conscious in light of Jane’s straightening up. She grins and giggles as Jane slips past her to lower the volume on the laptop, bumping her hip a little.

She drops a teasing line about watching out for dangerous curves, and Jane’s pointed look says ‘shut the hell up’ the way her clipped and polite tone never will.

She’s smiling though, so Roxy knows she’s not really mad, which is good. Pissing off a girl who can lift a fridge over her head, inside a kitchen of all places, is probably a bad move. Jane’s in too good of a mood from all her baking shenanigans to be bothered by any well-intentioned jokes anyway, and Roxy’s relieved.

Sometimes she thinks Jane takes things a little too seriously.

She lingers a moment in the space between counters, wondering if she should offer a better greeting. Whenever Jake comes home from being out all day, he always slips an arm around Jane’s waist and pulls her in for a quick smooch, like some kind of 1950s gig, all “Honey, I’m home!” and foot popping. It’s a thing they share, just the two of them, and Roxy’s always thought it was kind of adorable, kind of also nauseating. To each their own, she guesses.

She gives the possibility of parodying Jake’s famously romantic move a pass, figuring it’d just tick Jane off. She never seems to get the hang of this dating stuff, especially with Jane. While they’ve always made pretty great best friends, working around each other in intimate situations has been tricky, at best.

Even Dirk, giant pain in the ass that he is, has made things easier for her. At least _he_ puts his interests right out in the open, like a highlighted list of do’s and don’ts; don’t touch me like that, don’t mess with my hair, don’t try to steal my shades, _do_ hug me spontaneously since I probably need it, _do_ nag me about eating, _do_ drop whatever compliments you feel like, since everybody knows he’s a badass ball of sex and there ain’t no harm in saying so out loud.

Nice and clear. Dirk’s a good bro like that.

With Jane it’s been harder, a nervous sort of back and forth, accidentally crossing lines or failing to meet expectations. She’s kind of hard to please, she’ll admit that at least, but Roxy feels like she’s always, _always_ bumbling and screwing things up for them. They’re chilling out in this grey area between a million different points of named relationships, and she can’t even tell if Jane is happy there.

Ugh. Ugh basically covers her own feelings on the matter.

Roxy finally steps around to the other side of the kitchen, taking up a place on a stool at the central island, barely squeezing herself in between the trays of cookies set out to cool. She asks if any of those bad boys are up for grabs and grins when Jane smiles, quips that they’re all fair game.

There’s snickerdoodles to the left, she says, and the puffier ones on the right have chocolate chips and caramel.

All Roxy really hears is “sex cookies to the left and sex cookies to the right,” since both options sound fuckin’ _orgasmic_. She tells Jane so, smile turning lecherous.

Jane rolls her eyes, drops a few measuring cups into the sink to rinse off later. Surprisingly, she says, Roxy isn’t the first person she’s heard that from.

Roxy giggles at that, already imagining what horrifying metaphors Dirk could have come up with for a batch of freshly baked cookies, and reaches for a snickerdoodle before changing her mind. She was thinking about indulgence earlier, so why not go for the melty-gooey-delicious-chocolate-caramel mess?

She snags one of those instead, takes a bite and melts onto the table, carefully avoiding the trays, groaning as she goes.

 _God_ these are fucking fantastic.

And despite the dramatic display, Jane smiles proudly. She can’t resist a compliment on her baking, and Roxy is more than willing to give them any time. She’s pretty sure she’s gained five pounds since they all started living together, joining in on the veritable bakery Jane has running in their kitchen every day. Not that that’s a bad thing, just a thing that’s happened.

Jane says she can have as many as she likes, offers a gentle reminder to leave some for the boys as she opens the fridge and takes out a gallon of milk.

Roxy makes a plea for a glass before Jane can even offer, hiding a mouthful of sweetness behind her hand before she gets a chance to swallow. As Jane grabs two cups from the nearest cabinet, one pink and one orange (oh man Dirk will have a field day if he knows she’s been stealing his cup,) Roxy suddenly notices how very alone they are.

Both their boys have mysteriously vanished.

The shoes at the door were no indication, so for all she knows they could be out playing with swords or inside watching a movie or who knows what. They sneak off sometimes, either together or separately, and it’s something they’re working on. They can have their time apart, they all need it, but in the end it’s important to come together.

Roxy loves those moments the most, when they’re snuggled and sleepy and talking things out.

Even now, with the call of bed still hours away, she’s looking forward to passing out in a pile of lazy affection.

Roxy shoves the rest of the cookie into her mouth, lets it melt to a fine mess and sighs her satisfaction. She asks just where those dunderheads are, since Jane probably saw them last.

Jane keeps her waiting a moment, pouring out two glasses of milk, arranging them on the table and putting the milk away again before taking her seat and grabbing a snickerdoodle for herself. She says they came through earlier, then nods her head in the direction of the next room over, Dirk’s bedroom/office, the one he claimed for himself so he’d have a place to keep all his robots and plush ponies and occasional bouts of gloomy solitude.

He’s the stoic, tower dwelling lunatic to Jake’s wild, heroic gunslinger, and put together they’re pretty hysterical.

Seriously, Roxy sometimes thinks that if she spliced them together like some sicknasty Strider-English sprite she would literally just have Batman standing in front of her.

Jane says she’s pretty sure they’ve been playing a game for hours, some weird indie thing Dirk dragged out of the depths of the internet, which Jake was all too eager to try and trounce him in.

When Roxy listens closely, adjusts her focus to pull away from the music of Jane’s laptop, she can just make out the faint sounds of gameplay, little electric noises and…and yes, there’s Jake’s frustrated grunt. A sure sign that he’s losing.

Jake, that poor fool, Roxy says with a wince. He ought to know better than to dive into a game that’s already Dirk’s territory. He’s almost certainly going to get his ass handed to him.

Of course, in the end it doesn’t matter what games Dirk or Jake think they’re great at, since she’d definitely kick their asses in every single one no matter what. There’s only one king of games in this house, and she happens to be a queen.

Jane nods in agreement to Roxy’s sentiment, adds that the two of them locked themselves away a few minutes after she started prepping dry ingredients, so they’ve been in there for quite a while. She’s half-sure it devolved into some kind of extended competition.

Roxy snorts a laugh, waggles her eyebrows a little. Winner gets to top, she suggests.

Jane’s cheeks color a little, she can never seem to help it, and she shoots Roxy a disapproving look over the top of her glass.

It couldn’t possibly be that silly, she begins to say, then reconsiders, sighs, admits that actually they’re _exactly_ that silly.

She’s got that right.

Roxy shrugs and picks up a snickerdoodle, changing up her cookie consumption a little, and holds onto it for a moment, appreciating how warm it still is. She wonders if Jane made them especially because she knew they’d be ready for when she got home, or if the timing just worked out that way.

She doesn’t think she can ask in a non-joking way, so she doesn’t. Instead she says that if the boys are all in each other’s business, they should forget them and do something, just the two of them.

Ladies night, then, Jane offers with a slight smirk, and snickers when Roxy forces an exaggerated pout in response.

Sure, _ladies_ _night_ , she says. If your idea of ladies night is being wrapped in a blanket and watching Teen Witch with a table full of cookies within arm’s reach. Which actually, now that she says it, doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

Jane insists she is not sitting through Teen Witch a second time, no matter how “hilariously bad” Roxy thinks it is.

Roxy asserts that Jane is a buzzkill and a wet blanket, yeah both, but makes no move to leave the source of fresh baked snacks. She makes a valiant effort to fit an entire cookie in her mouth and fails splendidly, but the expression on Jane’s face, half-disgust and half-amusement, makes it worthwhile.

She reminds Roxy that there are still, oh, you know, about three dozen cookies available, and that she doesn’t have to _inhale_ them. She half-laughs part of the way through sounding serious, which prompts Roxy to snort a laugh herself, and soon they’re giggling together and almost knocking over nearly empty glasses of milk.

Which in turn inspires a series of references to spilled milk and how you shouldn’t cry over it, unless maybe the milk was your beloved pet, or if you knew the milk had a family back home.

Smiling wide, Jane waits for Roxy to finish her eulogy for half a gallon of pasteurized 2%, then points out that really, they have no room to talk. They are _just_ as silly as the boys.

Roxy rests her chin in her hand, leaning all her weight on one elbow as she sighs that yeah, they’re all pretty much nerds.

Her face is warm from laughing, from just being at home, and her fingertips are almost chilling against the heated skin. From where she’s sitting, Jane looks just as bright, just as warm, and she almost wants to reach over and poke her to see if the cold of her hands would make her jump.

So, she says, like the word has some serious weight, like she’s going to propose a plan of action, and she sort of is. She straightens up in her seat, prepared to reach over and give Jane a playful prod, to ask what she wants to do with their ladies night opportunity, but a noise nearby makes her stop.

It’s a muffled gasp, a half-formed word, just sharp enough to draw attention. It filters into the kitchen from the room next door, sudden and followed by silence. Roxy and Jane look to each other as if for explanation, but it isn’t long before a second sound reaches them.

A groan, accompanied with discernible words this time, though all Roxy can catch is “ _not fair.”_

Oh my god.

Oh my god they didn’t _actually_ …

She gives Jane a wide eyed look like, seriously, this is what they were _joking_ about.

There’s a distinct squeak of bedsprings (the extra bed in Dirk’s room is definitely not in the best condition,) and Roxy has to stifle a squeal.

They are so totally fucking in there. Or if they aren’t yet, they will be soon.

The background noise of the game playing earlier must have cut out, because the human sounds are so much clearer now, and becoming louder the longer they listen.

It’s got to be Jake, Roxy says, her voice a whisper, Dirk doesn’t make that much noise.

Jane listens carefully, waits through the sound of a stuttered something, some failed phrase, then nods her understanding.

Definitely Jake, she agrees.

The proclamation is punctuated by a sharp gasp from the aforementioned party, a slight squeak of bed springs that leaves Roxy squirming in her seat. _But golly_ , she thinks in a parody of Jake’s own voice, _whatever are they up to in there?_

Jane mutters an absentminded comment about hoping they’ll wash the sheets, and Roxy looks at her like she’s got three heads.

Wash the sheets, she repeats in a whisper of disbelief, is that _really_ all she’s thinking when she hears that?

She hates to think she’s the only one with her mind in the gutter here, especially since Jane is really adorable when she lets her pervy side show.

Jane hums a hesitant noise, her cheeks going flush with color.

The sound of bed springs carries down the hall again, becoming the most awkward and maddeningly sexy background noise whenever Jake’s stuttered curses enter the equation.

Hot _damn_ , that boy can get loud when he wants to. If she didn’t know any better, Roxy would say he’s doing it on purpose. She watches Jane listening again, knowing she’s honing in on the same sounds, and raises her eyebrows in question.

She smirks, says she knows they make a mess with the spermfest sometimes, but Dirk’s way too OCD to leave any sheets gross for longer than he wants to shove Jake’s face into them.

Jane goes _pink_ at that, and Roxy has to take a sip of milk to hide how smug her smile is.

Well, Jane admits, a touch frustrated, now she’s certainly not thinking about the sheets.

Damn right, Roxy says with a grin. She encourages Jane to put her imagination to work. Filling in the gaps isn’t that tough.

There’s an especially loud “fuck!” from the next room, the tone just needy enough to make Roxy squirm in her seat again, and the need to shift her position only becomes more dire when Jane levels a very serious look at her that is, quite honestly, kind of hot.

She says Roxy’s name low, like they’re telling secrets. She says that she _knows_ how to use her imagination, and o _h_ , that gives Roxy chills. The excited little tingles racing up her spine make her want to move close and gossip.

The creaking of bed springs intensifies, settling into a steady stream of sound, and Roxy raises an eyebrow.

Are they really going there? In it for the long haul?

The _boys_ certainly are.

Roxy sing-songs a question, asking exactly what Jane thinks is going on next door. And no skimping on the details, you know?

She half-expects Jane to fluster, to shut her down, but she looks super serious, almost businesslike when she answers.

As we already established, she says, taking hold of another snickerdoodle, Jake definitely lost that game.

Roxy sucks in a breath, catches herself in a giggle. She waits for Jane to continue and god bless her, the girl does not disappoint.

Considering how things usually go with them, she explains, she would assume some kind of scuffle followed, but to be honest she hasn’t heard any kind of arguing. So they must have sorted things out without all the rough housing.

Roxy scoffs, argues that it’s hard to believe Jake would let anything go down without a few blows to the head.

Jane raises her eyebrows, nibbles at the cookie in her hand, waits just long enough for Roxy to catch her own opportunity for a dirty joke.

Unless, Roxy says, fulfilling her obligation as the filthiest mind available, _Dirk_ going down was part of the arrangement.

Jane shakes her head. She points out that Jake only started making a ruckus a few minutes ago, whereas the music from their game cut out long before that.

Roxy hadn’t even noticed. She was preoccupied with trying to make Jane laugh, probably. She’ll have to take her word for it.

Jane pops the other half of the cookie into her mouth, lets Roxy pick up her deduction where she left off.

And pick up she does. Roxy nods in understanding, shimmies her shoulders a bit in excitement. If there was a stretch of quiet, it’s most likely due to some making out, some heavy petting, and a well-placed gag of sorts.

Which means Jake got schooled on all counts, she says, thinking out loud, while Dirk’s the one getting’ his marbles gargled.

Jane chokes a little on food in her mouth, face going redder as she swallows and murmurs that it does seem that way, yes.

Roxy admits that she likes her imaginary version better, which makes Jane laugh out loud, more sharply than her usual warm giggle.

Roxy shrugs, somewhat defensively. She lowers her voice to a whisper once more, leaning far enough over the island that she’s nearly pressed flat against the countertop. She’s not about to lie, she says. Dirk looks good all….

She trails off, squirms a little, goes shy for a second till Jane’s unrelenting stare pushes her to speak up.

Blushing and drooling and shit, she finishes, officially hot in the face, not to mention other places.

Not that the situation’s not appealing when it’s reversed, of course; Jake’s a mighty fine sight on his own, really. But there’s just something about breaking Dirk out of his stupid uptight role that gives her such a shiver. Seeing him on his hands and knees has made her damn near faint before, and thinking about it now has her squirming all over again.

Holy fucking huntress wizard, she is so turned on right now.

If they’re hearing Jake now, however, Jane explains, glossing smoothly over Roxy’s confession, then obviously things have progressed.

Reached the boinking point, Roxy suggests, gripping the edges of the stool beneath her, partly in a show of nervous energy and partly so she doesn’t scoot right off the edge trying to press her thighs closer and closer together.

She doesn’t want to be too obvious about the whole panty-melting business, but it gets pretty hard to ignore pretty damn quick. She watches Jane, wondering if maybe she’s in similar straits, but she looks vaguely amused at best, not at all like she wants to bust into Dirk’s room and demand that its inhabitants stop what they’re doing and let her join in.

Which is sort of what Roxy is wanting, to be honest. It’s not something she’ll actually do, since it’d be rude in regards to everyone involved. Dirk and Jake have their own thing going on at the moment, and she and Jane are supposed to be having a ladies’ night chat.

More than likely she’s just going to slink off to the nearest unoccupied space and get herself off later when Jane’s attention is turned to rinsing off baking sheets and the boys are busy being a sweaty pile of grossness.

Across from her, Jane takes a sip of milk, seems to hide in the glass for a moment in second-hand embarrassment as another of Jake’s enthusiastic moans rings through the hall.

He really can’t contain himself, she says, like she’s trying to excuse his behavior, but Roxy just laughs, muffling the sound in the crook of her arm in case the boys can overhear her just as well.

Jane please, she says dismissively, as if Jake isn’t always loud as fuck. No matter what he’s doing, he bellows everything like a wounded elephant. A sexy wounded elephant, sometimes.

Jane smiles something so close to predatory it gives Roxy another case of the shivers, and agrees that Jake is awfully vocal. She glances toward the wall separating them from the next room, listening to the squeak of bedsprings, the quick, creative curses Jake spits.

_Oh bollocks-_

_Hells fucking bells-_

_JesusMaryandJose- SHIT!_

Roxy fights the urge to moan. Dirk must be _killing_ him in there, if the choice and frequency of swears is any indicator.

She puts her pout back in place, mutters that she wishes she could see the picture to go with that _crazy_ audio.

Imagination, Jane reminds her, tapping a fingertip to her temple.

Roxy heaves a dramatic sigh and closes her eyes, begins dictating her fantasy visions aloud.

Mm, look at all those muscles, she says, all slick and shiny, oof, just like all the best pornos. Hot wizard twinks doing kinky sex things, fuck, so much banging going on-

Jane frowns slightly, interrupts to ask if she’s _actually_ imagining them in wizard hats.

Roxy snaps her mouth shut, not because she _was_ , but because it isn’t something she’d be totally against.

Alright mistress of erotic storytelling, she says, forcing the challenge in her voice to hide any little quiver, you string a steamy tale then if you know so much.

Jane straightens up a bit, looking all prim and proper, ready to strike.

Funny hats aside, she says, Dirk probably _does_ still have his sunglasses on.

Roxy shivers, just slightly.

Since he likes to pretend that he’s all under cover and in charge, Jane elaborates, smiling as though the concept of Dirk in charge is a funny joke.

And Jake, she says after a moment of thought, a pause to let Jake speak for himself (all he has to offer is a whimpery sort of sound,) is probably dressed in nothing at all.

Roxy fights the mental image a moment, slightly attached to the idea of Jake thrown on a bed with his dumb shorts shoved all askew, but ultimately Jane’s version wins her over, leaves her biting at her lower lip in anticipation.

Jane rests her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, still looking like the most scandalous thing she could possibly be thinking is who’s on the front page of Tiger Beat this month, but clearly her mind is elsewhere.

Jake is probably flat on his back, she muses, missionary, if you will. Dirk’s got his outlandish fetishes and all, but when it comes down to it he’s surprisingly traditional.

Roxy nods, squirms in her seat. When Dirk’s in control, he gets all hyper about eye contact, which is sort of ironic. It’s something he and Jake jive on, probably for different reasons. Dirk seeks out full focus, making sure he’s got all the details down even during something as simple as a talk about the weather, while Jake seems to make eye contact entirely by accident. Even that accidental gaze is pretty intense though, all lush jungle green and _mm_ , just so pretty.

Dirk’s a lucky son of a bitch, having those eyes on him right now.

The eyes trained on Roxy, however, are awfully pretty too. The color of an autumn sky, Jane’s eyes are beautiful, piercing when they lose their kindness, turn a little hard.

Roxy can feel her heart pounding, her pulse louder than it ought to be, and when one of Jake’s moans reaches her ears, she can’t help the slight whine that catches in her own throat.

She tries to cover it up, asks if it’s bad that Jake’s old-timey phrases are kind of a turn on.

Jane says not at all, that she rather likes them herself.

Roxy adds, voice dropping out to a mumble, that it’s cute when Jane says old fashioned shit too.

Jane just winks at her, but that’s enough.

Roxy’s not sure when her hand slipped down into her lap, but there it is, one side of her fist pressed lightly against her crotch all impudent as fuck.

She realizes belatedly how bad she’s been fidgeting, how hard she’s been rolling her hips the past minute or so.

Well then.

She pulls both hands up to chest level quick, embarrassed, and becomes doubly so when Jane frowns in disappointment.

She says she thought Roxy was going somewhere with that.

Roxy, to her credit, doesn’t die of blushing. She does sputter a shocked laugh though.

She didn’t mean to, she begins to say, stutters over her own words, she wasn’t…

Wasn’t touching herself?

No, that’s exactly what she was doing. Even if she hadn’t meant to, that’s the direction she was headed, and a direction she’d like to continue going, but she hadn’t exactly intended on doing so right here and now.

Jane clears her throat, snapping Roxy out of her own concern. She picks up a cookie, a chocolate one this time, and nibbles the tiniest edge off of it.

If she wanted to, she says slowly, like she’s turning a thought over a few times, she could keep going.

Roxy stares, blankly at first, then more focused as Jane swipes her tongue across her lower lip, cleaning away a bit of melted chocolate. She makes a soft, noncommittal noise, unsure.

This turn of events is unexpected, to say the least.

So basically, she says, for clarification, just to get this all out in the open air, Jane is asking her to masturbate in their kitchen?

Not asking, Jane says, suggesting.

Roxy bites at her lip.

Telling, Jane says, is the next step.

Roxy can practically feel the flush climbing right up to the tips of her ears. She imagines herself as pink as the dye in her hair, moves her legs slightly so her thighs shift against each other, so she can feel how very, _very_ wet she is, and takes in a sharp breath.

Jane is being clear.

That, Roxy reminds herself, is a good thing.

Yeah okay, she says, breathy and nervous. Nervous for what, she doesn’t know, but she’s got jitters all the same. Performance anxiety, maybe.

Okay, Jane agrees, and after another bite of cookie, a moment to chew and swallow, she asks for a reminder of where she’d left off.

Jake getting fucked, Roxy supplies without hesitation, hands still clenched tight, high at her chest. A look from Jane makes her drop them again, one resting in her lap, not quite close enough.

Of course, Jane says, that bit. They’ll pick up from there.

And Roxy nods, like she has a say in where the story goes. The room feels too quiet, even with soft music playing, with noise filtering from the next room. She imagines Jake stumbling out into the kitchen, half-dazed, and catching her at the table touching herself. She thinks of Jane actually _being into this_ , which sort of makes sense but also has her stunned, but in a pleasantly surprised sort of way. She considers actually getting off in the near future, which is just as, if not more appealing, than the other two thoughts.

Really, this should be a win-win for everyone.

Nervous excitement making her fingers shake, Roxy wriggles her skirt up just enough, a preemptive move to get it out of the way.

Jane is watching her, waiting for some silent go ahead, and when she gets one, a little nod to continue, she wets her lips and begins again.

It’s pretty obvious, she says, how things pan out from there. The whole two young men going at it thing, she means.

Roxy nods eagerly, spreading her legs a bit till she’s effectively straddling the stool. While pretty obvious, she wouldn’t mind an in-depth discussion on the situation.

A more interesting stretch of the imagination, Jane says, would be to put herself in that situation.

Roxy taps two fingers to the front of her panties, breathing a gasp at the light friction, the press of wet cotton to hot skin. She is very much in favor of this scenario.

Personally, Jane says, thoughtfully, and pauses to lick the melted caramel about to drip from the cookie in her hands, assuming the boys stay in their current positions, she imagines Roxy could quiet Jake down a bit.

His quick tongue is good for more than talking silly nonsense, she suggests.

Now it’s Roxy’s turn to swear. She knows exactly what Jake’s tongue is good for, that golden piece of information is filed right at the forefront of her sexual memory, and she recalls it gladly.

She bucks her hips forward a little, becomes frustrated with the fabric barrier against her fingers almost immediately. She slips her hand down the front of her underwear instead, sighing in relief when her fingers find their rightful place.

Fuck panties. Who ever thought those were important anyway?

She slides two fingers over her clit, overeager, half-expecting Jane to tell her to calm the hell down. She’s only slightly disappointed when she doesn’t get a verbal slap on the wrist.

Jake is always pretty eager to please, Jane comments, a fond smile on her lips, and for a moment her gaze shifts to the wall separating them from the boys. Roxy makes the slightest squeak of sound, drawing Jane’s attention back to her, inspiring her to continue.

Or at least, she says, eager for praise. He would do his damndest to get Roxy to the point of telling him how fantastic he is.

Roxy admits she’d tell him just that. She’d tell him just about anything to feel him hum his own pleasure against her skin, to coax his tongue into her.

She presses her fingers hard to her clit, moves them in a preferred counter-clockwise motion, breathes harder under Jane’s watchful gaze. It’s unnerving, just slightly, that Jane can really only see her top half from across the island. Strange as it seems, she almost wants to get higher, put herself on full display. Thinking that Jane is watching her expression shift, focusing on her parted lips and fluttering eyelids alone makes her squirm twice as much.

Jane does a pretty good impression of Jake, not a silly one, but an awfully close guess at the boy’s own words, set to her own pitch, copying his cadence when she says that making a pretty lady happy however a fella can is the chivalrous thing to do.

Roxy whimpers, says this is a little different than happy. Though she is happy, there’s a million other feelings exploding in her brain all at once, little sparks that start with a touch and end with an ache that leaves her wanting an orgasm and a hug and a kiss on the cheek and she’s _so_ hoping she can get all three for the price of admission.

Writhing in bliss, Jane says, smirking, is a kind of happy. She’s set the last corner of a cookie aside, has all her attention on Roxy, even warns her to be careful as she nearly slips off her seat with an eager twitch of the hips.

Roxy nods and shifts back, settles herself more safely. She begins to murmur that Jane _could_ come over to catch her, but cuts herself off with a sharp gasp. She’s already getting close, quick, and she can’t quite decide whether she wants to drag things out or get the hell on with it. She looks to Jane, to her hands in particular, watching her trace one finger back and forth over the tabletop, preoccupied, and swallows hard.

She wants to ask if she’s thinking of touching anyone in particular, but she can’t quite form the words. She mutters a few curses instead, falls to harsh, stuttered breathing as she slips a finger inside herself, a little too awkward at this angle to satisfy, but enough to make her heartbeat jump that little bit more.

Jane’s watching her, but her eyes have gone distant, unfocused, and it takes Roxy a moment to realize that she’s listening, closer and closer to the goings on in the next room. She slows her hand, listens in too, and makes out just what has her so caught up.

Dirk’s voice has entered the fray, rough words that are probably supposed to sound commanding and kind of dirty, but layered in with Jake’s groans they come across rushed and flustered, tinged with too much affection to be anything but sweet nothings.

Roxy listens, breathless, looks up when she hears Jane half-laugh.

Silly boys, she says softly, and gives Roxy another serious look, just the thing to get her rolling her hips hard again.

Silly girl, she says, even softer, and Roxy chokes on her own moan.

Dirk likes it, Jane says, choosing her words carefully, when she’s there. Sometimes. She knows that, right?

Roxy nods, though she’s not sure what she’s even agreeing to, acknowledging.

He loves her so much, Jane muses, and Roxy whimpers.

The words, the thought, have her brain grinding to a halt, and she shoots Jane a pleading look.

This is probably the most fucked up thing she’s ever beat off too, she says, and she’s really not kidding.

Jane sits up a little straighter, clears her throat as she murmurs an apology. Oh, yes, of course. She didn’t mean to get sappy there, she was just saying-

She shakes her head, putting the thought aside, and promptly tells Roxy that she should probably hurry up, since things seem to be escalating rather quickly next door, and she doesn’t know if Roxy wants the boys to come out and see her all out of sorts.

Under different circumstances, ones where she wasn’t _really_ so out of sorts, Roxy would be on board for getting caught in the act. Sprawled seductively across the table, dressed in something skimpy, melted chocolate in hand, she’d be happy to play the sexy housewife caught off guard, _certainly_ not eagerly waiting for her lovers to walk in and see her like that.

This though. This is sort of embarrassing. Incredibly hot, but still embarrassing.

She presses her fingers a little more insistently, urging her body to get on with it, to let her go already.

Good girl, Jane coos, and Roxy really didn’t think she got off on that kind of thing, but the resulting shiver that runs through her begs to differ.

She finds herself murmuring curses, forming a string of _fucks_ that escalates in volume till she jerks against her own fingers, back arching as the quick heat of orgasm overcomes her, a lightning strike that momentarily fries her brain.

Jane watches, waits, murmurs that she looks really pretty in this light long before Roxy is ready to hear it, drawing a bashful groan out of her with the words alone.

She’s all sweetness as Roxy comes down, still listening for the sounds next door, the ones Roxy can’t quite hear since her ears have popped and everything is a bit muffled for the moment.

She looks up in interest at a cry that Roxy can only half-hear, glances back to catch her giving an experimental touch to heated, oversensitive skin, watches her shiver.

It sounds like the boys have wrapped things up, she says, and Roxy nods, fingers still poised over her clit, touching ever so lightly, teasing herself with their presence.

Kind of a shame, Jane says, they never even got to discuss Roxy’s favored positions.

Roxy groans again, drops forward so her forehead rests on the cool surface of the tabletop. She demands to know where all this is coming from, this sudden flurry of sexy…domineering…ughahghghghhhh…

She says it just like that. Ughahghghghhhh.

She hears Jane laugh, though it sounds sort of surprised, and when she tilts her head and glances back up, she’s met with a skeptical look.

 _Sudden_ sexy? Jane half-frowns, the way she does when her feelings are a little hurt, when she’s trying to be reasonable and it isn’t quite working.

Roxy’s head spins in a quick, horrifying rush of _oh no I fucked up_ , and she quickly corrects herself.

It’s not that Jane isn’t always sexy, she clarifies. Because she is! She is….a goddess, basically. But this sort of thing isn’t usually _they’re_ sort of thing.

Jane looks at her across the table, one eyebrow raised. Her half-frown works itself into a smile, still slightly hesitant, and she shrugs.

She says it looked like Roxy could use a little stress relief.

Cheeks flooding with heat, Roxy laughs out loud. Jane’s idea of stress relief has caused about as much stress as it removed, but the thought is appreciated. It was a sweet gesture, much like the cookies, which, the longer she sits eye-level to them, Roxy is more certain were brought out of the oven just in time for her to enjoy.

Roxy tells Jane that she is the cutest and most thoughtful sweetie pie ever to walk the earth.

Jane reminds Roxy that she still has a hand down her panties.

Their eyes meet for a moment as Roxy curls her fingers ever so slightly, shudders up around her shoulders, down through her midsection.

Oh right. About that.

Jane shrugs again, says Roxy might as well keep going.

And Roxy is sure she had concerns about being caught in the act, about falling off her goddamn chair, but when Jane looks at her like she’s expecting something great, continuing to masturbate at the kitchen table sounds like a fantastic idea.

She gives a nervous laugh, agrees that yeah, she might as well, since she’s already all…you know. She gestures with her free hand, watches as Jane picks up half a cookie, takes a small bite, then raises her eyebrows as if to ask what the hold up is.

Everything is quiet next door, the tinny music from Jane’s laptop trailing off into a slow song, and Roxy’s heartbeat is pounding in her ears.

She sits up straighter and reconfigures a little, slips a finger up inside herself, gasps a breathy little noise. It’s still almost too much, _almost_ , and she isn’t sure what she wants to do.

Sometimes the mind is willing, but the flesh is really really tingly and if she pushes herself too much it might hurt and she’ll regret the burn in her muscles later but who knows it could be worth it-

She looks to Jane, dazedly waiting for instruction.

Don’t stop, Jane says, gently, and Roxy begins to protest.

Jane silences her with a sharp “tch,” repeats her command. She knows that Roxy has it in her, she says, after all, Jake is always going on about what an insatiable spitfire she is.

Roxy’s heart skips a beat.

They talk about her?

The same way she and Jane are talking now?

Roxy immediately imagines them wrapped up in each other, all slightly scratchy kisses and clumsy fondling, discussing whatever naked shenanigans she and Jake had gotten into the night before. Jake would divulge whatever information he had, in grandiose story format, and Jane would listen and nod and stroke his hair, mentally gathering notes like the wily sleuth she is.

Jane has done this before, she realizes, this fantasy-building trick. She must know what it does to a person, has been working to make Roxy squirm since she opened her mouth, the little sneak.

She isn’t sure whether to be annoyed or endeared or aroused. In the end, the result is the same.

She feels lightheaded, light hearted, and moans softly as she gives in, fingers sliding out, over her clit again.

If she touches lightly, barely a tap of pressure, it’s enough to make her gasp, not too much to handle. She can work up to a harder touch, tease herself into rolling her hips once more. She can slip two fingers inside herself, curl them just enough to draw out a throaty moan.

She can work her hand, her hips, close enough to unison to make due, losing her breath and nearly falling apart.

Please, she says, to Jane, to no one in particular, please please please _fuck_ please, and follows it up with a whimper when Jane tells her, encouragingly, that she can do it.

She’s got a goddamn sex cheerleader over here, saying the kindest, sweetest things, clicking her tongue in disapproval when she seems to be giving up, and it only takes a few well timed utterances of ‘missy,’ used both affectionately and authoritatively, till she’s tipping forward to lean against the island once more, giving a harsh jab and curl of her fingers to trigger her second orgasm.

Her hand is _wet_ when she slides it free of her underwear, and she’s careful to rest her palm against her own lap, not wanting to touch the tabletop and gross Jane out. She figures sullying the sacred cookie holder would earn her a stern talking to, at least, and she doesn’t think her poor worn out body can take it right now.

She rests one elbow on the table though, leans her cheek against her arm and gazes up at Jane, watches the color fade from her cheeks while she herself still feels a hundred degrees too hot.

Roxy’s breathless as she says Jane’s name, an exhausted gasp of reverence, asks if she really just _talked_ her over the edge not once but _twice_.

Jane smiles, demure now, far too composed.

It does seem that way, she says.

As if on cue (and really, at this point, it wouldn’t surprise Roxy in the slightest if this was all planned down to the minute,) the door of Dirk’s room opens, and the man himself slinks out into the hall seconds later.

He’s got a tank top and briefs on, just barely skirting an infraction of Jane’s strict common area nudity policies, and when he steps into the kitchen to survey the pile of cookies, the two pink-faced girls on either side of them, Roxy sees that he hasn’t put his shades back on. His hair is a little mussed on one side, and if she didn’t know any better she’d say there was a touch of color under skin too.

Lookin’ good, she calls, offering a shaky thumbs up.

He returns the gesture, smiles a little and she thinks she gets the message; good job kid, you done flustered a Crocker.

He looks to Jane and gives her an even more smug, knowing look though, so Roxy’s still not entirely convinced they’re not somehow in cahoots.

The door to his room is still open, and Jake’s voice is free to filter through the hallway between, asking if those are, by any chance, cookies, he smells.

Jane rolls her eyes, calls back to him that yes, there are cookies. Snickerdoodles and chocolate chips with caramel.

Dirk opens his mouth to say something clever, but Jane silences him with a look. There have been enough comments about sexually appealing cookies today, apparently.

After a moment’s pause, Jake calls out again, weak, like perhaps he's all tuckered out (Roxy snickers into her hand,) and asks if Dirk could maybe be a pal and fetch him a cookie. Or two. Half a dozen would be a safe bet, actually.

It’s Dirk’s turn to roll his eyes then, while Jane simply giggles and hops up off her stool to grab a plate.

Dirk calls back that Jake is absolutely not allowed to eat in his bed, but selects six cookies from the cooling racks and drops them onto Jane’s offered plate anyway.

As he re-enters his room, still not quite shutting the door, Roxy looks to Jane questioningly, waits for her to notice.

Um, she says quietly, really not wanting the boys to hear this time.

Jane looks back at her, comes around to her side of the island so she can lean close, listen in like they have a real secret.

Roxy says she doesn’t want to be a bummer, or annoying or anything, it’s just that she really is sort of wondering where that came from. She wonders if it means they should like, well, she doesn’t know exactly, she’s not even sure what she’s asking really, just like, she’s not sure what _this_ all is, or where she stands, and- and-

She’s making no sense and Jane knows it. She shows no remorse in interrupting her, twisting to plant a kiss on her forehead.

Later, she says gently, and it’s not a dismissal, it’s a promise.

Tonight, Roxy knows, she’ll find a place beside Jane in bed, with the time to talk things over, with the warmth of three perfect people surrounding her.

Jane puts an arm around her just long enough for her to nuzzle in, breath the scent of vanilla and cinnamon and something uniquely, perfectly Jane, before slipping away to rinse off measuring cups.

Roxy picks up another snickerdoodle, feels calm, feels sticky, feels at home.

.

.

.


End file.
